2 - I Seek Shelter and Find It

"This is a fine piece of business," I said to myself, springing to myfeet. And then I called as loudly as my lungs would permit forHippopopolis. It was really exhilarating to do so. The name lendsitself so readily to a sonorous effect. The hills fairly echoed andre-echoed with the name, but no answer came, and finally I gave up indisgust, seeking meanwhile the very inadequate shelter of a tree, tokeep the rain off. A more woe-begone picture never presented itself, Iam convinced. I was chilled through, shivering in the dampness of thenight, a steady stream of water pouring upon and drenching myclothing, void of property of an available nature, and lost in astrange land. To make matters worse, I was familiar only with classicGreek, which language is utterly unknown in those parts to-day, beingspoken only by the professors of the American school at Athens and thewar correspondents of the New York Sunday newspapers--a fact, by theway, which probably accounts for the latter's unfamiliarity withclassic English. It is too much in these times to expect a man tospeak or write more than one language at a time. Even if I survivedthe exposure of the night, a horrid death by starvation stared me inthe face, since I had no means of conveying to any one who mightappear the idea that I was hungry.

Still, if starvation was to be my lot, I preferred to starve drylyand warmly; so, deserting the tree which was now rather worse as arefuge than no refuge at all, since the limbs began to trickle forthsteady streams of water, which, by some accursed miracle of choice,seemed to consider the back of my neck their inevitable destination, Istarted in to explore as best I could in the uncanny light of thenight for some more sheltered nook. Feeling, too, that, having robbedme, Hippopopolis would become an extremely unpleasant person toencounter in my unarmed and exhausted state, I made my way up themountainside, rather than down into the valley, where my inconsiderateguide was probably even then engaged in squandering my hard-earnedwealth, in company with the peasants of that locality, who see realmoney so seldom that they ask no unpleasant questions as to whence ithas come when they do see it.

"Under the circumstances," thought I, "I sincerely hope that the pathsof Hippopopolis and myself may lie as wide as the poles apart. If sobe we do again tread the same path, I trust I shall see him in time tobe able to ignore his presence."

With this reflection I made my way with difficulty up the side ofOlympus. Several times it seemed to me that I had found the spotwherein I might lie until the sun should rise, but quite as often aninconsiderate leak overhead through the leaves of the trees, or anundiscovered crack in the rocks above me, sent me travelling upon myway. Physical endurance has its limits, however, and at the end of atwo hours' climb, wellnigh exhausted, I staggered into an openingbetween two walls of rock, and fell almost fainting to the ground.The falling rain revived me, and on my hands and knees I crawledfarther in, and, to my great delight, shortly found myself in ahigh-ceiled cavern, safe from the storm, a place in which one mightstarve comfortably, if so be one had to pass through that tryingordeal.

"He might have left me my flask," I groaned as I thought over the pintof warming liquid which Hippopopolis had taken from me. It was of aparticular sort, and I liked it whether I was thirsty or not. "If he'donly left me that, he might have had my letter of credit, and noquestions asked. These Greeks are apparently not aware that there isconsideration even among thieves."

Huddling myself together, I tried to get warm after the fashion of thesmall boy when he jumps into his cold-sheeted bed on a winter's night,a process which makes his legs warm the upper part of his body, and_vice versa_. It was moderately successful. If I could have wrung thewater out of my clothes, it might have been wholly so. Still, mattersbegan to look more cheerful, and I was about to drop off into a doze,when at the far end of the cavern, where all had hitherto been blackas night, there suddenly burst forth a tremendous flood of light.

"Humph!" thought I, as the rays pierced through the blackness of thecavern even to where I lay shivering. "I'm in for it now. In allprobability I have stumbled upon a bandits' cave."

Pleasing visions of the ways of bandits began to flit through my mind.

"In all likelihood," thought I, "there are seventeen of them. As Ihave read my fiction, there are invariably seventeen bandits to aband. It's like sixteen ounces to the pound, or three feet to theyard, or fifty-three cents to the dollar. It never varies. What hopehave I to escape unharmed from seventeen bandits, even though five ofthem are discontented--as is always the case in books--and are readyto betray their chief to the enemy? I am the enemy, of course, butI'll be hanged if I wish the chief betrayed into my hands. He couldprobably thrash me single-handed. My hands are full anyhow, whether Iget the chief or not."

[Illustration: A DREAM OF BRIGANDAGE]

My heart sank into my boots; but as these were very wet, it promptlyreturned to my throat, where it had rested ever since Hippopopolis haddeserted me. My heart is a very sane sort of an organ. I gazed towardsthe light intently, expecting to see dark figures of murderous mouldloom up before me, but in this I was agreeably disappointed. Nothingof the sort happened, and I grew easier in my mind, although mycuriosity was by no means appeased.

"I know what I will do," I said to myself. "I'll make friends with thechief himself. That's the best plan. If he is responsive, my familywill be spared the necessity of receiving one of my ears by mail witha delicate request for $20,000 ransom, accompanied by a P. S.enclosing the other ear to emphasize the importance of thecomplication."

By way of diversion, let me say here that, while slicing off thevictim's ear is a staple situation among novelists who write ofbandits, in all my experience with bandits--and I have known athousand, most of 'em in Wall Street--I have never known it done, andI challenge those who write of South European highway-robbers toproduce any evidence to prove that the habit is prevalent. The ideais, on the face of it, invalid. The ears of mankind, despite certaindifferences which are acknowledged, are, after all, very much alike.The point that differentiates one ear from another is the angle atwhich it is set from the head. The angle, according to the mostscientific students of the organ of hearing, is the basis of theestimate of the individual. Therefore, to convince the wealthy personsat home that large sums of money are expected of them to preserve thelife of the father of the family, the truly expert bandit must sendsomething besides the ear itself, which, when cut off, has no anglewhatsoever. If I, who am no bandit, and who have not studied the artof the banditti, may make a suggestion which may prove valuable to thehighwaymen of Italy and Greece, the only sure method of identifyingthe individual lies in the cutting off of the head of the victim, bywhich means alone the identity of the person to be ransomed may besettled beyond all question. As one who has suffered, I will say thatI would not send a check for $20,000 to a bandit on the testimony ofone ear any more than I would lend a man ten dollars on his ownrepresentation as to the meals he had not had, the drinks he wanted,or the date upon which he would pay it back.

All these ideas flashed across my mind as I lay there worn in spiritand chilled to the bone. At last, however, after a considerableeffort, I gathered myself together and resolved to investigate. I roseup, stood uncertainly on my feet, and was about to make my way towardsthe sources of the unexpected light, when a dark figure rushed pastme. I tried to speak to it.

"Hello, there!" said I, hoping to gain its attention and ask itsadvice, since it came into the cavern in that breezy fashion whichbetokens familiarity with surroundings. The being, whatever it reallywas, and I was soon to find this out, turned a scornful and reallymajestic face upon me, as much as to say, "Who are you that shouldthus address a god?" The rushing thing wore a crown and flowing robes.Likewise it had a gray beard and an air of power which made me, a meremortal, seem weak even in my own estimation. Furthermore, there was adivine atmosphere following in his wake. It suggested the mostbrilliant of brilliantine.

"Here," he cried as he passed. "I haven't time to listen to yourstory, but here is my card. I have no change about me. Call upon meto-morrow and I will attend to your needs."

The card fluttered to my side, and, not being a mendicant, I paidlittle attention to it, preferring to watch this fast-disappearingfigure until I should see whither it was going. Arriving at the farend of the cavern, the hurrying figure stopped and apparently pushed abutton at the side of the wall. Immediately an iron door, which I hadnot before perceived, was pushed aside. The dark figure disappearedinto what seemed to be a well-lighted elevator, and was promptlylifted out of sight. All became dark again, and I was frankly puzzled.This was a situation beyond my ken. What it could mean I could notsurmise, and in the hope of finding a clew to the mystery I gropedabout in the darkness for the card which the hurried individual hadcast at me with his words of encouragement. Ultimately I found it, butwas unable to decipher its inscription, if perchance it had one.Nevertheless, I managed to keep my spirits up. This, I think, was aHerculean task, considering the darkness and my extreme lonesomeness.I can be happy under adverse circumstances, if only I have congenialcompany. But to lie alone, in a black cavern, prey only to thethoughts of my environment, thoughts suggesting all things apart fromlife, thoughts which send the mind over the past a thousand centuriesremoved--these are not comforting, and these were the only thoughtsvouchsafed to me.

A half-hour was thus passed in the darkness, and then the lightappeared again, and I resolved, though little strength was left to me,to seek out its source. I stood up and staggered towards it, and as Idrew nearer observed that the illumination came from nothing more norless than an elevator at the bottom of a shaft, the magnitude ofwhich I could not, of course, at the moment determine.

The boy in charge was a pretty little chap, and, if I may so state it,was absolutely unclad, but about his shoulders was slung a strap whichin turn held a leathern bag, which, to my eyes, suggested a golf-bagmore than anything else, except that it was filled with arrows insteadof golf-clubs.

"How do you do?" said I, politely. "Whose caddy are you?"

"Very well," said the little lad. "Not much to brag of, however.Merely bobbish, pretty bobbish. In answer to your second question, Itake pleasure in informing you," he added, "that I am everybody'scaddy."

"You are--the elevator boy?" I queried, with some hesitation.

"That is my present position," said he.

"And, ah, whither do you elevate, my lad?"

[Illustration: IN THE ELEVATOR]

"Up!" said he, after the manner of one who does not wish to commithimself, like most elevator boys. "But whom do you wish to see?" hedemanded, trying hard to frown and succeeding only in making aludicrous exhibition of himself.

Frankly, I did not know, but under the impulse of the moment I handedout the card which the stranger had thrown to me.

"I forget the gentleman's name," said I, "but here is his card. Heasked me to call."

The elevator boy glanced at it, and his manner immediately changed.

"Oh, indeed. Very well, sir," he said. "I'll take you up right away.Step lively, please."

I stepped into the elevator, and the lad turned a wheel which set usupon our upward journey at once.

"I am sorry to have been so rude to you, sir," said the boy. "Ididn't really know you were a friend of his."

"Of whom?" I demanded.

"The old man himself," he replied, with which he handed me back thecard I had given him, upon reading which I ascertained the name of theindividual who had rushed past me so unceremoniously.